


The Third Morgenstern

by Starlit_Night_67



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Adopted Alec, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4909051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlit_Night_67/pseuds/Starlit_Night_67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Valentine and Jocelyn have two children before the Accords - Jonathan and Seraphina, both two years old. Jocelyn finds her family manor burnt, and family - excluding little Sera - dead. So she runs away from Idris with Luke and she is taken away from them, forced to live between the people her mother didn't want to meet, away from her younger sister - Clary. What will change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Morgenstern

**Author's Note:**

> So . . . This is my first story on AO3, and I really can't guarantee anything. But still, enjoy the story! Please leave a comment as well!

Prologue – Farther Away

_I, took, your smiles,_

_And I made them mine._

Merciless yet broken black eyes scanned the area, white hair whipping ferociously in the wind. The only thing he saw was orange. Orange and red. He was reminded of similar hair tangled in his hands, and it by the Angel, did it _hurt_. The owner of it was like fire itself – something that could heal and hurt.

And she did both.

Valentine saw the house – _their_ house – burning in hellfire.

_I sold my soul,_

_Just to hide the light._

He looked at his white-blond son, and wondered what he did wrong.

_And, now, I see, what I really am,_

_A thief,_

_A whore,_

_And a liar._

She left him. And took his daughter – his beloved, sweet, untainted _daughter_ – away from him while she was at it. Why? Why did she?

_I run to you_

_Call out your name_

_I see you there_

_Farther away._

He had done everything for Jocelyn – loved her, married her, kept her safe and spoilt her. Where did he go wrong? Why did he deserve this? This. . . this _torture_ of being alone? Was he so bad to her?

_I’m, known, to you_

Perhaps she was disgusted. But the question remained: _why?_

_You, give, me, all but the reason why._

_I reach, but I feel,_

_Only air at night._

_Not you, not now,_

_Just nothing._

Valentine felt like he was grasping at straws. Why did _he_ need to find an excuse that was related to him? Why couldn’t he pin the blame on Jocelyn?

 _Because you love her. . ._ it was his annoying conscience.

_Oh, do shut up._

And shut up it did. What would Valentine not do to have his daughter and wife by his side. What would he have to be one happy family again, to see Jonathan smile his angelic smile, that always appeared in the presence of his twin.

And what he would not do to chop the werewolf into pieces.

Valentine growled angrily. Lucian, admittedly, _was_ his brother-like persona. He was warm and cheery, where Valentine was cold and calculating. At first they got along only for Jocelyn’s sake, but then the meetings became genial.

And Lucian’s condition ruined _every_ thing.

Jocelyn became horrified, and Lucian was too cowardly to kill himself.

_I run to you_

_Call out your name_

_I see you there_

_Farther away._

Seraphina, poor little Sera, was so confused, Valentine noticed. She had no idea why her parents were acting so strange. He couldn’t blame the little girl – he too, felt the same way when his mother and father fought when he was younger.

“Father,” Jonathan tugged his hand, looking impossibly small, “where is Seraph?”

He was the only one she allowed to call her that.

“I don’t know my son,” his gaze turned hard as he found someone to blame, someone other than himself, “but what I _do_ know is that she ran away. And it’s all because of you.”

Jonathan looked horrified. “What did I do?” he asked hysterically. He _loved_ his twin more than anything, and was convinced that she did him. He would knock at death’s door and return, if only for her.

“You are a demon. No one can love you; not your mother, not your sister. Only I have the ability to do so.”

“But _why_?” Jonathan said sadly.

That had been the same question he’d been asking himself for so long.

“I told you, you are a demon, while your sister inherited your angel qualities. She cannot love you. I am sorry my son.”

Valentine did not feel even the slightest bit guilt as he looked at his son’s gradually hardening eyes that held a hint to steely determination and hate.

“Traitors,” Jonathan snarled viciously, brokenly, sounding like the child he was, “traitors, all of them – Seraph, mother.”

 _Traitors indeed, my son. Traitors indeed._ Valentine thought.

**\- X -**

Jonathan wiped the sweat of his brow. Today was the day he anxiously waited for. Today was the day – he grinned at that – he would get revenge on his so-called “family”, who abandoned him.

And today was the day, he would meet his sister after fourteen _long_ years.

His lips curved into a cold, cruel and merciless smile. Seraph hated him. She left him, after she was the only one he loved so. And she never returned. Not for healing his wounds, not for singing with (generally for) him, not even for looking at him. She lived with Valentine’s little – he scowled at this – beloved “Angel-boy”, who became that Lightwood girl’s parabatai. She probably forgot about him and dotted on Jace – just like his father.

Did he mean so little to his sister? He thought bitterly, a sour taste in his mouth. Did she not love him anymore?

Of course she didn’t. Otherwise she’d be looking for him. . . wouldn’t she?

His black eyes swept the area where his sister supposedly lived. Jonathan’s nose wrinkled. This was where she lived? A Morgenstern, no less? A small hut in the countryside? Barely big enough to hold one person? All alone in solitude?

Of course. He snorted. She always was different from him.

Where he was arrogant, she was humble. Where he was deceitful she was honest. Where he was dark, she was light. Where he was fully aware of his beauty, she was oblivious. Where he lusted, she loved. Where he killed, she revived.

And when her mother – he refused to call Jocelyn his mother – left their father, she left with her and went away. Away from him. His heart ached.

She was the angel to his demon, quite literally, in fact.

He grinned darkly at the thought. And they had been separated for too long. It was time for the union of the dark and the light.

He strode to the door in a few long strides, reaching it faster than any human could hope to. Jonathan Morgenstern moved with a fluid grace, rivalling that of angels.

He snickered at the possibility. He was different from angel by _far_. Technically, he wasn’t even a shadowhunter.

He knocked on the wooden door, once, twice, awaiting the response of the fragile girl that lived inside.

The door immediately creaked open, Jonathan found himself _happy_ , of all things, to meet his sister after over a decade, which made him scowl. Why did he strive to please his sister? After all she had done to him?

Jonathan squashed that happiness bubbling inside him, letting the hate he had for his sister flow through his veins, light his body with destructive energy.

Oh how he loved hate.

Instead of finding a nicely shaped black-woman, he found a girl of his age. She had ashy hair, mixed with a little white, giving it a salt and pepper feel that looked good only on old ladies. She had tired and worn silver eyes that were bloodshot and was literally skin and bones, with a little muscle here and there. She wore a shirt of his favorite color – red, and the jeans of her favorite color – blue.

Maybe she still loved him. . .? He shook his head.

And worst of all, she was clutching his – _their_ – favorite toy soldier. The one with the Seraph blade, her favorite weapon, and the one with the scythe, his favorite weapon from when he was two.

“Jon?” she murmured sleepily, one fisted hand rubbing her eyes, “Is that you?”


End file.
